


Desert

by spellingbee



Category: Original Work
Genre: Other, snippets from something i might actually write later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 14:07:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17448431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spellingbee/pseuds/spellingbee
Summary: There's beauty in the desert, but it's a beauty he can't make himself see anymore.So he leaves.





	Desert

**Author's Note:**

> My second weekly post. Short (and late, but I promise this was all written before this past Sunday) and with little information, but these snippets are all connected in my head somehow.  
> Hopefully at some point I'll be able to put them to use for something bigger!

And he knows there's beauty in the desert, he  _knows_ it, but he looks out his window and all he can see is a barren landscape, dusty and dry, the only signs of life being low-lying scrub brush and spiky grass growing in inconsistent clumps.  
  
He can't take it anymore, he  _can't_ take this nothingness anymore. He needs to leave this place, and leave it soon.  
  
So he does the only thing he can think to do: he packs his bags in the middle of the night, and he books a ticket on the first train heading north, and he leaves behind everyone he's ever known without so much as a "see you around."

 

* * *

 

 "I wasn't allowed to sing," they said, and though their expression didn't change, he could see their eyes hardening, their posture growing tense. "She didn't like to hear me sing, and she used to...." 

They trailed off, silent for just a moment, and then they shrugged. "Anyway. I don't like to do it anymore. In front of people. It's hard not to think of...you know. Her."

He nodded, not quite sure he understood exactly what they were saying, but fully aware that it was difficult for them to speak about this. "Well," he said after a moment, "if you ever decide you want an audience, let me know. You sound amazing. I'd...like to hear it again."

The two of them looked at each other for a few silent moments, and then they grinned at each other.

"I'll keep that in mind," they said, and he couldn't help the little flutter in his chest.

 

* * *

 

There's just something about sleeping next to someone, he comes to realize. It's hard to think about his anxieties--all the people he left behind, all the responsibilities he dropped, all the _everything_ , really--it's hard to care about any of that when you have the warmth of a person beside you, when your legs are tangled around each other and their hear is tucked beneath your chin.  
  
He finds that he's never slept so well in his life, and that even when he lays awake for hours, when even the warmth of his loved one isn't enough to keep the nightmares at bay, he finds that it's still better than it ever had been before. Even when he lays awake, he doesn't have to worry about whether he's unlovable, doesn't have to wonder if he'll spend his life alone, because all he has to do is tighten his arms around them, or run his fingers through their hair, to be reminded that he isn't alone anymore.  
  
There's just...something about sleeping next to the one you love, the one who loves you, that makes it hard to hate yourself.

 


End file.
